Bad Phlebotomists and Good Friends

I had my mandatory OB nurse appointment today, otherwise known as the No Fun Appointment. This is the appointment where they talk to you about first trimester screening (which we're opting out of), morning sickness (could've used that talk about a month ago), vitamins, pre-term labor, STDs, the mercury level in fish, and everything in between. Oh, and insurance. Because apparently they want to be paid to deliver this baby. It's not that this session wasn't informative, but it's the first baby-related doctor's appointment I've had that I haven't gotten to see my baby. I mean, I figured if I was going to make the trip all the way out there, they might as well humor me and let me at least take a quick peak at Baby O. No such luck.

The nurse that I met with was great. You know those people that just have kind smiles? She was one of them. I bet she's a fantastic grandmother. Then phlebotomist, on the other hand, either a) got dumped by her boyfriend last night b) lost her puppy before work this morning or c) hated me. Because if neither of these options are the case, then she just takes great joy in being mean while drawing blood. Don't get me wrong- I don't love getting my blood drawn. But I've gotten used to it over the past 2 years, because infertility kind of leaves you no other choice. Plus, the women who drew blood at my RE's office were fantastic. They smiled, they joked with you, they asked questions- they kept you distracted. And call me spoiled, but that's what I'm used to now. So, I skipped into the lab this morning expecting another friendly, smiling face. No such luck. This lady didn't speak to me as she filled vial after vial after vial of my blood. Right around the fifth vial, I started to feel woozy.

"Are you getting close to being done?" I asked her, and I promise it wasn't in an annoying way. It was in an I'm-starting-to-see-stars-and-might-black-out-at-any-second panicked kind of way.

"Yeah," she snapped back at me. "You're just a really slow bleeder."

Um. Okay. Maybe that's a phlebotomist's way of insulting you? I felt like snapping right back at her, "Oh yeah? Well, no one else has ever complained about the speed of my bleed."

But, alas, 76* vials of blood later, I was finally able to leave.

Now, on to a happier subject: good friends.

Yesterday I received a card in the mail from one of my sister's oldest and best friends (hi, Dina). The front of the card says, "Pregnancy is the happiest reason ever for feeling like crap". Yep. Couldn't have said it better myself. And then she wrote some really sweet and thoughtful things on the inside that made me all teary and I swear it's not just because I am a hormonal disaster right now. It's because it was just kind. And it acknowledged that we worked really, really hard for this pregnancy.

Then today, I received a package in the mail from one of my oldest and best friends (hi, Danielle). She sent me a huge bag of M&Ms (which I am eating as I type this, no joke). She also sent me Tummy Honey Butter to prevent stretch marks, Preggie Pop Drops to help combat my friend Morning Sickness (who, if I'm being honest, was never much of a friend anyway), and the cutest little sock monkey slippers for infants. So.freakin.cute. And such a thoughtful package.

I am 11 weeks today. Come on, 2nd trimester. I am so ready for you.




*It was probably more like 8 vials of blood, but who's counting?